A Day for Lovers
by Saturdaychick
Summary: Erik, riding into town on some errands, finds the town decorated for some mysterious celebration.


**A Day For Lovers**

There was something different about the town of Bonne Chance on the outskirts of Rouen. Erik dismounted from the saddle and led the beautiful black stallion, Naji, the son of his beloved Isra, to the stables and handed the stable boy some coins, enough to make the boy's eyes widen and for him to glance up at the man before him, "Merci, Monsieur," he shyly replied. He was not at all disturbed by Erik's masked features, because Erik was widely known around town as a master composer and musician.

"I won't be long, but see he has some water and a bit of hay." He patted Naji's graceful neck and the stallion leaned down to nuzzle Erik's face. Erik chuckled, "Enjoy your respite, my friend, you will be burdened with packages for our return trip."

Turning from the stables, Erik made his way to the shops along the main street. The first thing he noticed was that each of the shop windows was festooned with red, and white and gilt paper hearts, with doilies and ribbons and small sculptures of swans and angels and the confectionary had placed huge boxes of heart shaped chocolate boxes in the window. He paused to stare at the display before opening the door and entering.

"Ah, Monsieur Fantome, such a pleasure to see you on such an auspicious day," Mademoiselle Caron, the proprietor and chocolatier, greeted him. "Are you here seeking a confection for Madame Christine?"

"Yes, but…" he hesitated a moment as he picked up a chalk sculpture of a swan and then replaced it, "What is going on in town, today? What is all this…" he caught himself before he blurted out nonsense. Then continued, "this, um… decorating?"

"Ooh, la la, it is Saint Valentine's Day, of course! It is a day for lovers, for those in love, and for those who are fortunate to have found their perfect match." Here she smiled knowingly at Erik.

Erik, widely traveled, intellectual, former Opera Ghost, murderer, and architect of palaces and torture chambers found himself at a loss. He'd never had anyone to love, to call his own, before Christine became his. And he had Rafe, as well. The little gypsy boy was as much a part of his heart as Christine was.

"Are you saying that people buy these treats and tokens for their beloved?" he asked. He'd heard of Saint Valentine in his readings, somewhere, the name clicked in the back of his mind. Wasn't he a martyr, someone arrested and punished for something or other? He didn't associate that memory with this array of romantic imagery.

"Oh, yes, indeed. I, myself, have made up these bon bons and truffles. My very best," she motioned to her largest satin heart shaped box."

"I suppose this is worthy of my wife," he replied and checking the price, peeled off some notes and handed them to her. He added a couple extra, "Your consultation fees." He smiled. "You are too kind, Monsieur! Let me wrap it for you, and, what do you think? I will add a bag of licorice drops for Raphael! My treat!"

Erik left the shop feeling, somehow, buoyant. He entered the flower shop and left with a dozen red roses, tied with black ribbon and placed in a basket for him to carry. From there he went to the jewelers, and was very taken with a red ruby heart on a gold chain. How lovely it would look about Christine's throat. He couldn't have designed anything better, himself!

He stopped at the book sellers and bought a couple of books for Rafe, one on pirates, his favorite, and one, stories about jungle animals.

He was feeling quite pleased with himself. This was better than Christmas, because it was new, to him, anyway, and unexpected, on this trip for such sundries as… what did bring him to town, today?  
Oh, yes, some wine, so he stopped and added a bottle of champagne to his burden. And coffee. He stopped at the grocer and had him grind some fine Turkish coffee for him. The smell was heavenly.

Staggering under this bounty, he made his way to the stable. The boy hurried and saddled Naji, who stared at Erik's bounty and snorted. He was a racing breed. Not a cart horse, after all. Still, he adored Erik, and would do anything for him. He paid the stable boy to fetch him some baskets and tied them expertly to either side of Naji's saddle. He filled them with as much as he could, and then, tucking the bag of chocolates under his arm, mounted his stallion and made for home.

Rafe was sitting practicing on the piano, with Christine giving him the occasional instruction, when they heard the hoof beats telling them Erik was home, and both, hand in hand, scrambled down the stairs and stood patiently beside the huge front door until he had settled Naji for the night and entered the house, letting in a blast of the frigid February air.

"Happy Saint Valentine's Day, my beloveds," he beamed, setting his packages down and embracing them both. "I have gifts of my appreciation for you both" he smiled, "In celebration of this wonderous day!" Just then, he noticed a look pass between Christine and Rafe. They laughed and Rafe darted off to his room and returned with two paper handmade cards.

"We made these for you, Monsieur Erik," Rafe happily informed him. Erik opened each card and his heart melted, one said "To my Angel, you brought music into my heart and soul. Love, your Angel." From Christine! She loved him enough to express it in words and it was cut round the edges to make a paper lace and written with his own signature red ink in her flowery script. The other bore Raphael's neat handwriting, it had a drawing of a pirate with a wooden leg and an eye patch. Inside it said "Dear Monsieur Opera Ghost, you are like a treasure chest filled with gold to me, love, Rafe!" He could feel himself choking up.

Pulling himself together, he turned away for a minute and then lay the packages at their feet. "For you, my dears, "he said, as he handed the gifts back and forth between them. Rafe laughed with excitement at the books and was delighted with his bag of licorice. Christine ooohed over the roses, a symbol of their love from the beginning and immediately placed them in her favorite vase. Then he handed her the jewelry box and she exclaimed with surprise at its perfection. He clasped it around her neck as she held her hair out of the way.

Later, ensconced on the large sofa, the three shared the treats from the chocolate box, Erik and Christine clinking champagne flutes and Rafe, a glass of fresh, cold milk.

"To my two angels, well, my Angel and my Pirate, let this be the beginning of a new tradition, to celebrate our love for each other on this special day of the year!"

"Only one day to express those feelings, my Angel?" Christine asked softly, leaning affectionately against her husband, "I think every day is Valentine's Day in _THIS_ house!" and Erik, slipping his arm around her waist, had to agree.


End file.
